Phantom of the Opera Beyond Redemption
by Rin Gensoukai
Summary: Five years after the great catastrophe, new hope was brought to Paris when a young, delinquent woman Angeline opens the door to the old Opera Populaire house and hides there with a little boy, Henri, whom she had stolen from his abusive parents...
1. Chapter 1 Part 1 The Fugitives

Chapter I

**1. Fugitives**

She was running down the beautiful street full of lords, countesses and their servants. Nobody turned to see her as it was quite often that a low life would creep out from the shadows and show its face on the streets. The definition of low life, or let's call them "social outcasts" was quite severe and perhaps overdone at that tie. Social Outcasts were usually entertainers, in fact – meaningless lives whose sole purpose in life was to bring joy and happiness for a short while into the life of a lord… countess…kings…

The year was 1886. France was, by reputation, one of the most beautful countries with most beautiful people and a society whose behavior was somewhat godly. The end of summer was rather special, however. And just like now, most inhabitants were in a hurry to prepare their homes and families for autumn time.

Angeline Rousseau was a rather savage young woman from a broken home. Her family was less than admirable. Her father was once a great architect, yet through time his adoration towards liquer had gotten the best of him. Her mother, unlike her father was a caring mother at first. Though, as years begun to clinge to her widening body, her motherly instincts were lost in-between bitterness and lies.

She moved to Paris when she was around eighteen, where she lived with a group of entertainers from whom she had learnt how to use her voice properly. So here and ther she would jump when some of them was sick. She had no ambitions, as she wasn't much of a student. Her passion had always been music and art. Unfortunatelly, for a young woman at her age and at that time, it was impossible to break through in those categories of business without having extra help.

The child she was carrying in her arms was clinging to her neck while she let her feet take flight across the street. She wasn't sure if anyone was following them, as she had no time to turn her head. She would most probably end up in prison for kidnapping a five-year-old child.

Angeline passed by a very known building that was often mentioned in the newspapers and famous novels of that time – The Opera Populaire. Of course, as it was common for all things and creatures when they are not being taken care of, the building was slowly withering before the eyes of all men. Its once beautiful, bright walls were now starting to turn dirty gray, as its door were falling to pieces.

Bearing in mind many stories about the opera house, Angeline still barged in. She looked around in a hurry, trying to spot a good hiding place.

She put down the child she was carrying. The boy was quiet the whole time, presumably intimidated by the haste in which Angeline had snatched him from his home.

"There!" He yelled, pointing his finger at wooden stairs that seemed quite unstable, considering the fact that their surface was nibbled by the greedy teeth of the past five years – the time that the opera house was untouched by a human hand. It was obvious that the stairs were just a small part of the final play that had taken place before the grand catastrophe.

Angeline had no time to waste. The police or Monsieur Bouvier's – the child's father – underlings were right at her tail.

"Henri…" Her voice filled the empty space when she turned to the boy, "I need you to climb to my back and hold tight. I will climb up those stairs." Suddenly, she grabbed the boy, whose young limbs wiggled their way up her body until he was fixed on his back, "Don't let go, no matter what!" She was saying while running toward the stairs. She felt the boy's uneasiness as soon as she grabbed the rickety pole, as his tiny arms seized her neck as if his body wished to blend in with hers.

She begun to take small, but hasty steps, while switching the balance from one foot to another with great forethought. She was not too worried about the stairs not being able to hold her weight and the weight of the child, as her short and thin figure carried not more than forty-seven kilos. There was also her acrobatic abilities that she had gained from practicing with the dancers up until now.

She reached the top soon. The stairs were connected to a one-by-one meter long board that was shaking every time one of them would inhale and exhale. The good thing was that the top was three meters away from the ground, it was cloaked with thick, dusty curtains and devoured by shadows.

"Don't move, Henri. No motions at all!" She whispered nervously and crouched. Henri moved slowly to her front, where he sat face towards her. She wrapped her long, perfect, feminine arms around him and listened to the sounds of the old opera house.

At first all they could hear was the numb sound of the wooden stairs swinging until they settled upon their weight. Right in that moment, the door of the opera opened explosivelly and footsteps of nervous individuals announced great caution to the fugitives.

Henri's small, shivering body bounced slightly when the door were opened in such a violent and sudden manner. She squeezed him tighter, hoping to withhold any motions he would make and that would distort the stillness of their, currently, only enemy – the old stairs.

Angeline listened to the motions. Here and there, the sound of glass breaking gave her a better heads-up as to where their pursuers were in that moment. She could almost hear her heartbeats. She was forcing her breaths to be more silenter and less intense than they all ready were.

There was someone under them… Looking up…

A policeman?

That somebody pushed the stairs and they begun to swing once again. Angeline's heart jumped into her throat even though she had predicted this might happen. The child let out a soft cry that she barely heard.

"Shh, Henri… No sounds…" She whispered to the child and leaned her hot palm against his nape. The rush of blood through her body was so instense, like a troop of soldiers charging at their enemy. She closed her eyes, repeating a prayer inside her head over and over again. She wasn't much of a religious person, actually. In fact, she had no knowledge of any prayer whatsoever. Still, the entertainers she had lived with had their own way of praying – songs. Songs about God and salvation. Songs about hope and power of endurance. The lyrics were circling around her mind until she heard the door of the Opera shutting.

Her eyes opened wide on the mark of the door shutting. She stayed motionless, however. Listening… Listening if her ears played tricks on her. Only the sound of hers and Henri's heart beating was winding around the dim silence.

Twenty seconds must have passed until she turned her head in the direction of the door.

"Are they gone yet?" Henri whispered into her ear. Angeline's and his eyes met.

"I'll take a peek. Don't make a sound." She whispered back and slowly pushed him away.

The stairs creeked when she stopped crawling. She supported herself against her elbows as she knelt down and looked from under the curtain. The odor of the curtain, mixed with dust particles provoked a sweet frown on her face.

There was no one…

"Coast is clear." She said and slowly begun to descend. Henri was right behind her.

She dusted off her own clothes and then Henri's. Then she took a deep breath that gathered all the tension and worry in her lungs and exhaled them out of her body.

"That was close…" Henri stated and looked up at Angeline. She was worried… What was _she_, a mere twenty-one year old supposed to do with a five-year old child? A _Boy_, even? She knew little about boys and working as Henri's nanny was supposed to _"broaden her horizons"_ as Michele, her dancer friend that she shared a room, told her.

"Henry…" She said, going down on her knees to level with the boy's head, "I hope you understand that I've taken away because you were mistreated at home. Don't see me as a bad person." She explained mildly.

"Angelique…" Henri uttered the nickname he had given her out of love.

"We have nowhere to go, Henri. I can't take you to _"Aurore"_. Even _I_ can't return to _"Aurore"_. We're fugitives now…" She continued.

"We can stay here!" Henri shouted with a childish smile on his face. This brought a mild smile to Angeline's countenance.

In fact, when Angeline looked at the big picture… They _could_ stay in Opera Populaire. Nobody dared to enter as some still believed that the ghosts of the past lingered in its corners. However… the police shall be back. Her vast criminal experience had shown to be useful afterall.


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2 Obligation

**2. I stole a child**

Henri fell asleep at last. His little body was relaxed on her chest as she listened to him breathing. Perhaps she did a mistake by stealing him from his parents? She had no idea where to go from here. Panic hit her. A child… She had a child. And it wasn't even her own child! What was she going to do with a little boy, no job and no place to live? Perhaps it would have been better if she had left him at Bouvier's mansion… Even though Monsieur Bouvier wasn't a fatherly figure.

She remembered the time when she first had seen Monsieur Bouvier hit Henri. It was for a reason, though. The child defied him in an inappropriate manner. Normally, parents would give their child a slap or two on their behind but… Monsieur Bouvier aimed for the head… and neck… and chest… He overdid it.

Knowing what it feels like to have an abusive parent, Angeline had recognized the traits in Monsieur Bouvier and now, when she thought about it, she would remember all the sounds coming from their bedroom. Those were not sounds of a husband and wife exchanging affections, yet sounds of pain… abuse.

_Well… Getting a nanny job was a pretty bad idea_, she thought, recalling Michele's shiny brown eyes when she spoke of the Bouviers. Madame Bouvier was her aunt, as Angeline could recall the conversations between Michele and her. Coming from a poor family where men always held the crown, Madame Bouvier was doomed to become an object which her husband was to use as a hitting pillow every time he was agitated.

_I don't understand such women_, she thought while flashbacks of her past begun to come to surface once again. Her mother had so many chances to leave and save herself and her children. But she stayed… _Why?_ - she thought.

Being a grown woman, now, Angeline's logics skills were greatly developed, so she could make an assumption or two regarding that question. After analyzing each of them, she would always come to the same conclusion. The one she didn't like to say out loud – love.

It was all about love, perhaps?

Angeline's heart, unfortunately, was forged in the fire of violence, confusion or even hate. She presumed it was only natural for her to be unable to understand the meaning of falling in love. Sometimes, while thinking about it – because she was just a human and as every human being, she often felt the crave for physical demonstrations of affections – Angeline thought that she was never going to love. Or perhaps… _recognize_ love when it comes by. What if she was to live a one-person life throughout her lifespan?

Too many what-if's would often line up in her head when she'd be thinking about the definition of love. As always, she would conclude her thoughts with one question:

_Is love performed in methods such as beating? If not… why would someone endure the beating for the sake of love?_

She snapped out of her thinking when her eyes begun to hurt from some unknown constraint. She soon came to realize that it was the sun coming in through small windows high on the walls that made her eyes hurt. It was dawning all ready. She must've been awake the entire night.

She was tired, naturally. She ran four blocks yesterday and was tired just because of that. And then there were things like playing hide-and-seek with the policemen – which did damage to her nerves at the time – then there was the fact she couldn't fall asleep because she was bothered by the thought that she had done wrong by saving Henri from…

_Saving…_ - she thought. _Did I really save him? Or it's just that I want to think I've saved him?_

"Henri…" She touched his forehead and removed some of his locks gently, while softly whispering to wake him up, "Henri, it's morning… Wake up!"

Henri was tired, obviously. Even him, who did not realize what was exactly happening around him, was exhausted just like her. In addition to that, he hadn't dined last night. She didn't take anything. She reacted impulsively, as always. Most of the time it had a bad outcome, actually.

Angeline hid the boy behind the curtains, covering him with her coat, which she had to leave behind as mornings were all ready rather chilly. She had a few coins in her pockets. Luckily, it was enough to buy half of bread and a bottle of milk. _That should withhold the hunger till afternoon_, she thought.

Henri was awake when she came back to the opera house. Dust was clinging to his wet cheeks that were moistened but heavy tears.

"Angelique!" He shouted, stood up and ran into her so hard she almost dropped the bread and milk, "I thought you left me!" He put in after shoving his face into her crimson dress.

"Oh Henri… You know I would never leave you! I love you so much!" She said with a smile and dried his cheeks, "I went to the market. I'm sorry I can't give you something that you usually eat for breakfast. This was all I could buy." She exposed the bread and the bottle of milk she had set down on the ground when she dried his face.

"Mum says that a hungry person would eat anything as long as it makes his belly stop aching." The little boy said as he plucked a piece of bread and put it into his mouth. Angeline couldn't help but hugging him for this. He was such a good child. She couldn't imagine how somebody could even lift a finger against him.

"You're a good boy, Henri." She whispered.

Angeline told him to hide and eat the bread and milk until she returns. She gave him a few of broken statues from the floor that were barely size of her hands. Though heavy, Henri accepted them as toys. Perhaps the five-year old boy pretended he was happy about having such toys. If that _was _the case, she was indeed lucky to have stumbled upon such a child.

She went out of the opera house and hid behind a carriage to view the situation on the street. No policemen.

_Lucky_, she thought to herself. First, she organized thoughts before coming to a conclusion – as she often did. She had to pay a visit to some people in order to get a job… or in the worst scenario, at least a one-time thing.

She went to the _"Aurore" _house, which was Michele's accommodation. She lived there with the rest of her dancing, singing and theatric comrades. She needed to explain the situation.

"Have you gone completely _insane_, Angeline?!" Michele shrieked after hearing out the entire story. A few veins popped out on the young woman's face, as her red curls shun on the dim sunlight that was coming from large windows of the practice hall. This was the place where all entertainers usually rehearsed their dancing, their acts and some even rehearsed lyrics they were to sing in musicals or operas.

"Shh! Not so loud, Michele!" Angeline pulled her by the sleeve and dragged her to the side, "I could just let him beat the poor child to death!"

"You are just a _nanny_, Angeline! You had no right to _steal_ a child!" Michele was emphasizing all the key words in her scolding.

"I _was_ a nanny." Angeline cut in. Michele was about to blow up with anger and tension. Instead, she took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. Angeline knew the girl too well to know that she was contemplating in that moment. She would often scold Angeline for her wild and unorganized personality. But after each cold shower of Michele's angry voice, the girl would often try to think of a way to help Angeline.

"What do you intend to do? Where are you now? Where is the boy?" Her somewhat vulgarly colored lips motioned with worry.

"We're both together and we're safe. As to what I intend to do now… I'm not sure."

"You're not _sure_?!" Michele burst again, but was silenced by Angeline at once, "You cannot just walk in here, tell me you've kidnapped a child and say you did it without making a _plan_ before you did it! Does this make any sense to you?!" She blabbered.

Angeline pretended she was lost in her words, when in reality she _did_ understand every word Michele had just said. Behavior like this often saved her from critical moments in which she could have been compromised. Unfortunately, the bad side-effect was that some people believed her to be stupid so she was often deprived of key information.

"I thought you could tell me where I could go look for a job even if it _is_ just a one-time thing. Just until I settle down properly." Angeline said.

"Angeline… I've known you for around three years and I believe we're good friends. And in these years that is the only thing you've been repeating over and over without actually doing something about it!"

Angeline frowned.

"I'm not irresponsible, if that's what you're implying!" She shouted, but Michele hushed her and pulled her more to the side.

"There is a woman I know. She is an opera singer and a very good one, yet she hasn't been given a shot to prove herself. I heard she is in need of an assistant. Maybe you should try it?" She whispered, pushing a piece of paper into Angeline's hand

Angeline's annoyed scowl transformed into a joyful smile and she jumped on her friend, hugging her real tight.

"I _knew_ you would help me if I asked!" She uttered.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't let it—"

"—turn into a habit, yes I know, I know." Angeline finished the sentence while running towards the exit.

"Good luck!" She heard Michele wishing from behind.

* * *

The paper Angeline received from Michele had the name and the address of her, hopefully, future employer. It didn't take long till she had found the house. It was an old building that appeared quite spooky to a girl like Angeline. Of course, Angeline's imagination never seized to function.

She knocked.

No reply.

She tried again and suddenly, the door creaked open. A short person with a fairly small head peeked out – at least half of the head. She couldn't quite determine whether it was a male or a female person that had answered the door. The eyes of the midget were quite bigger than an average human eye, there was little hair on top of the head and the hand that was holding the door open was small, thin and bony.

The person said nothing.

"Uhh… Hello. I'm Angeline Rousseau . I am here to see Madame Lacroix." Angeline said to the thrusting eyes that scanned her from head to toe, sending Angeline strange vibes.

Intuition… That's what she called that feeling. Something was out of place, she reckoned. She knew something was wrong with all that.

The door shut. Angeline gasped in disbelief that her last chance had just vaporized into thin air. She was about to turn around and leave when, suddenly, the door opened again.

A woman in her thirties with beautiful red hair and a blue velvety dress opened the door this time. Her face was mild, yet strict. A little boy peeked from her side.

"I am Thérèse Lacroix." She said, "How can I be of service to you, mademoiselle?" Her strong voice was a clear indication of mighty lungs. Angeline smiled when she read caution and honesty on the woman's face. It wasn't hard for her to make out the good and the bad amongst the population. It was one of the talents she had developed during her time on the street. She was certain that this meeting was to go smoothly.


End file.
